


Tempered

by ABrighterDarkness



Series: PoTS Stocking Exchange [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anger, Apologies, Arguing, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Nightmares, Pre-Relationship, Steve Rogers Has PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21769222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABrighterDarkness/pseuds/ABrighterDarkness
Summary: Steve knew he had a temper.  It was an acknowledged fact of his person.  His ma had continually despaired the truth of it far too many times throughout his youth.  Bucky had cursed it probably just as frequently, if not more.  Considering how frequently both of them had to patch up his battered body after said temper had him fighting in one alley or another, he supposed they were probably the ones with the most right to their opinions.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: PoTS Stocking Exchange [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626244
Comments: 8
Kudos: 66
Collections: POTS (18+) Stony Stocking 2019





	Tempered

**Author's Note:**

  * For [only_more_love](https://archiveofourown.org/users/only_more_love/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [only_more_love](https://archiveofourown.org/users/only_more_love/pseuds/only_more_love) in the [stony_stocking_2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/stony_stocking_2019) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> 1) onlymorelove #8488
> 
> 2) Short Prompts:  
> \- sex pollen fic  
> \- laughter or ridiculous things happening to characters—during sex or just in daily life  
> \- “I don’t know how to let someone love me.”
> 
> 3) Long Prompts:  
> \- Steve accidentally sends Tony this pic: https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DZqSiAWU0AAMFrH?format=jpg&name=small Shenanigans ensue. :)  
> \- Tony and Steve have a terrible argument, and one or both have extremely hurt feelings. What do they fight about? How do they make up? It could be established relationship, just friendship, or whatever your brain comes up with.  
> \- Infinity War AU where Tony calls Steve and Steve answers, or Steve calls Tony and Tony answers.
> 
> 4) Do Not Wants:  
> \- Steve and/or Tony as Peter's parent(s), scat, vore, graphic underage, age play, animal play
> 
> 5) Additional Wants:  
> I'm not picky; if you gift me something, whether it's emojis, hugs, or links to animal pics, I'll probably love it. :)
> 
> Fic things I like: characters being gentle with each other; character studies; acknowledgment that Steve Rogers is the son of immigrants, and how that might impact him; domestic Avengers; gap filler or missing scene fics; asexuality; fic dealing with mental health issues in any way; characters actually talking through their issues, even if they can’t resolve everything; tooth-rotting fluff; banter; open, ambiguous, or downright unhappy endings; Dom/sub elements or interesting power dynamics; fic dealing w/hard things like infidelity, miscarriage, eating disorders, body image, alcoholism/drug abuse, illness, rape aftermath, etc.; feelings + smut; friendship or gen fic.
> 
> Meta: CW meta; Endgame meta; meta on anything to do with Steve or Tony as individuals or as a ship; meta on any of the Avengers characters or friendships.
> 
> I love anything that has anything to with any of my fics (moodboards, translations, comments, podfic, fanart, interpretive dance...) 
> 
> Rec lists for fic or fanvids are always welcome. I also love song playlists or individual song recs, especially those that remind you of Steve, Tony, or Steve/Tony. 
> 
> I love dogs, cats, babies, recipes, humorous shitposts, poetry, art, photography, book recs, podcast recs, and links to articles about positive news—people doing kind things for strangers, scientific discoveries, anything that shows we aren't trapped in a hellhole,  
> etc.

Steve knew he had a temper. It was an acknowledged fact of his person. His ma had continually despaired the truth of it far too many times throughout his youth. Bucky had cursed it probably just as frequently, if not more. Considering how frequently both of them had to patch up his battered body after said temper had him fighting in one alley or another, he supposed they were probably the ones with the most right to their opinions.

He had come to accept it and, for the most part, had grown to have a pretty good handle on it. The problem with his temper, though, was that it came with massive, brightly colored buttons. Not only that, but it was compounded by pure stubbornness. That Steve Rogers was as stubborn as a mule came as a surprise to absolutely no one who had spent any amount of time with him. 

Steve had also come to learn in his year and change in the 21st century that if there was one thing that Tony Stark was irritatingly proficient at, it was jabbing those buttons with unmatched efficiency. It was  _ grating _ . Steve tried and tried  _ hard _ to keep a lid on his temper. Clung to his control with every ounce of stubbornness he could scrounge. Because he knew, he  _ knew _ , what happened when he happened to lose his grip on that self-control. After the serum, Steve knew without having to take the time to consider it that he could no longer allow his fists to do the speaking for him when his temper flared. He  _ had _ eventually learned how to use his words.

Suffice to say he became an outright ass. Maybe that was putting it tamely.

It went without saying that when Tony put his focus on pushing Steve’s buttons the results tended to be rather...explosive. 

In the aftermath, Steve could freely admit that Tony wasn’t entirely at fault. There’s no way Tony could have known that Steve had been running a week on virtually no rest thanks to a steady stream of night terrors. He couldn’t have known that Steve had spent the recent weeks feeling as though he was losing whatever hold he’d managed to get on his sanity. Tony  _ couldn’t _ have known how far on edge Steve already was when he started pressing buttons and pushing boundaries in typical Tony Stark fashion. He couldn’t have known because, of course, Steve had been too damned stubborn to actually  _ tell him. _

So no, Tony wasn’t entirely to blame for the explosive argument. The thing with Tony though, was that the man just did not seem to know when to just leave things alone. He doesn’t stop. He sees those bright shiny buttons and just can’t seem to help but jabbing them as hard and fast as he can, often times in rapid succession. 

Most days, Steve can roll with that, take it in stride. Treat it in the vein of playful banter that has become so natural between them. Most days, sarcastic comments about Steve’s time in the ice or the years--the  _ people-- _ he lost or even his occasionally rigid personality don’t cause him to lash out or react poorly. And if they do, Steve’s usually conscious of himself enough to bow out of the conversation before it can peak. 

In his defense, though, he had asked, warned, told, and all but  _ begged _ Tony to stop. 

He hadn’t wanted to leave the workshop, honestly. There had always been something incredibly calming and grounding about being there with Tony. Watching him work and interact with the various tech. And being as ragged and raw as Steve had been feeling, calm and grounding was something he had been pretty desperate for. So even when Tony had begun poking and prodding, Steve hadn’t walked away. When he started to feel the familiar feeling of his temper coiling in his gut, he didn’t withdraw. 

Steve watched, almost distantly, as his words turned harsh, biting. He could see the moment Tony’s defensive walls snapped back into place. He could still hear the words exchanged reverberating through his mind. He could hear the fragility under his caustic insults. He could hear the surprised hurt lacing Tony’s rebuttals. He could see it, hear it, but hours later, he still couldn’t make sense of it. Couldn’t make sense of  _ how _ he let it go so far so fast.

“You both need to apologize,” a cool voice said from immediately to his right. Steve startled, head turning sharply to find Natasha settled into the couch beside him. Her brow was arched pointedly, head cocked in challenge as though she expected him to immediately argue.

Part of Steve really wanted to. Argue, that was. He didn’t want to apologize. Not because he thought it unnecessary or because he felt himself blameless. But rather because he would rather go to bed--hopefully achieve at least one night of decent rest--and pretend the whole thing never happened. That he didn’t potentially destroy one of the best things that had begun developing in his 21st century life. 

All because he couldn’t keep a lid on his temper.

His shoulders slumped and he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, head braced against his palms. “Yeah, I know.”

“Want to talk about it?” She offered after a beat of silence.

“Not really,” Steve replied. “Sorry,” he added, tiredly. He knew that, with Nat, the offer was genuine. She would let him unload the thoughts bouncing around in his head, whether it be about his current battles with his mind or the more recent one with Tony. Not that he really needed to  _ tell _ her any of it. She knew both him and Tony well enough to have come to her own painfully accurate deductions. But, honestly, Steve knew who he  _ wanted _ to have this discussion with, even if he didn’t know how.

“If you change your mind…” she let the sentence hang.

“Yeah,” Steve nodded in understanding, unspeakably grateful for her. Steve felt her small hands squeeze his shoulder firmly and scratch her fingers through his hair affectionately before leaving the room with nearly silent footsteps.

Several hours later, Steve sat on one of the stools, elbow on the counter and forehead braced against his palm. The other hand curled around a long-cooled mug of tea, stolen from Bruce’s ‘calming’ stash. He wasn’t sure exactly how long he’d been there, trying to convince himself to go to bed. That ghosts and demons weren’t actually waiting for him on the other side. He never was very good at convincingly lying to himself, though. The tension that had followed him for the last week, compounded by the blow up with Tony earlier that day and the hurt, anger and guilt that resulted meant that the demons would likely only gain a stronger foothold. Steve had learned that the hard way.

A shuffling sound drew his attention and he lifted his gaze, blurred with exhaustion, to see Tony freeze when he realized the kitchen was occupied. Their eyes met for a moment and Steve did his best to school his features into something close to normal. Tony studied him for a moment before turning away and making his way to the coffee pot and refilling his mug. The silence that hung between them was palpably awkward and tense. Steve hated it but his foggy brain couldn’t seem to pull words together to try to fix it.

“So,” Tony said, drawing the word out cautiously as he turned to face Steve, leaning back against the counter behind him. “That was...bad.”

Steve quirked a small smile at Tony’s ability to understate the obvious. He wasn’t wrong though, he sighed, letting his posture sink again and nodded, “Yeah, that was real bad. Tony, I--I’m sorry.”

Tony looked down, staring blankly into the contents of his mug for a moment bobbing his head thoughtfully. When he looked back up, Steve felt himself shrink back at the intensity of the stare. “You know,” he began, brow furrowed in consideration. “I think I get it. You present yourself as so well-adjusted and put together that sometimes we-- _ I _ forget that you have as many demons as the rest of us.”

“Not an excuse though,” Steve countered. “What’s goin’ on in my head doesn’t give me the right to be an ass.”

“Not an excuse, maybe,” Tony conceded. “But definitely a reason. I don’t take that into account sometimes. A lot of times. I  _ see _ the signs but I forget to pay attention to them. I clearly recall you asking me to stop. And I didn’t. So maybe this one’s on me.”

“I could’ve left before it reached that point. And I didn’t,” Steve sighed, running a hand raggedly through his hair. “Didn’t want to.”

“Because you were itching for a fight? And knew I could give it to you?” Tony asked, curious rather than accusing.

Steve frowned and shook his head, “Opposite actually. Needed the calm.”

“Calm?” Tony repeated, blinking rapidly in surprise. “I think you might be the first person in like... _ ever _ to put ‘calm’ and ‘Tony Stark’ in the same category.”

Another small smile stole over Steve’s expression and he shrugged awkwardly. He tapped his fingertips against the countertop thoughtfully, carefully considering his words. “I guess it’s just…” Steve sighed and grimaced at his inability to form the words he wanted to say. “I don’t really sleep. Not much anyway. Or very well when I do,” he explained haltingly. “But in the workshop with you. Just kinda being there, watching you work or just reading or sketching or whatever. It’s...it’s a different kind of rest. One my head’ll actually let me have.”

“Oh,” Tony responded, staring intently at Steve. “Huh.”

“And today,” Steve continued hesitantly, dropping his eyes to his fingers twisting together nervously. “Today was...bad. The whole not sleeping thing. Ghosts. Demons. You got the fallout.” He startled slightly when a heavy palm rested on his shoulder, thumb settling naturally against Steve’s collar bone. 

When he looked up to meet Tony’s eyes he found himself surprised at the amount of understanding found there. He released the hold on the cold mug and covered Tony’s hand with his own, sighing shakily into the acceptance. 

“Anything I can do to help?” Tony asked quietly. “The whole not sleeping thing?”

“Already do, Tony,” Steve responded, quietly but firmly. “You already help.”

Tony huffed but Steve could hear the familiar fondness in the words when he spoke. “You really are a big sappy mess, aren’t you? Unreal, Rogers. You’re unreal.”

“Guilty,” Steve smirked, the weight of their earlier argument lifting from his shoulders. He hadn’t realized just how heavy it had felt until it had released him. 

“I like that, by the way,” Tony said suddenly. Steve tilted his head in confusion at the sudden statement. Tony just shrugged, “You feeling comfortable here. The tower. The workshop. In general.” He frowned hesitantly, dropping his gaze slightly to rest on where their hands still settled on Steve’s shoulder. “And...I don’t like that I messed with that today. We both screwed up but  _ I _ crossed a line. You asked me to stop and I didn’t. I’ll...I’ll work on it. Promise.”

“Thank you, Tony,” Steve said with a small smile. He was well aware that neither of them were the best examples of emotionally stable men. That they had been able to have such a conversation as smoothly as they had was something just short of a miracle. Steve felt a wave of affection washing over him to replace the earlier dark feelings and his fingers curled around the hand under his and squeezed gently, inexplicably pleased when Tony’s grip tightened in turn.

“Come on,” Tony said after a beat, using the grip on Steve’s hand to tug him forward.

“Where?” Steve frowned, glancing at the clock on the stove and noting that it was pushing three in the morning.

“Workshop, where else?” Tony smirked. “You’re dead on your feet, I’ve got work to do. Workshop’s a win for both of us.”

Steve studied him for a brief moment before nodding, letting Tony pull him from the stool and towards the elevator. He hadn’t realized that he still held onto Tony’s hand until they reached the workshop and Tony pulled his hand away. Only so far as to rest it lightly on Steve’s lower back to guide him through the organized chaos to the couch where he typically took up residence. The touch was unexpected but, surprisingly not unwelcome.

When Steve sank comfortably onto the couch, Tony paused only a moment to squeeze his shoulder once more and flash a cheeky smile before moving towards the floating displays of his current project. Steve watched curiously as Tony became fully absorbed in his work. It had always fascinated him. The technical magic that was an intrinsic part of the man. Watching Tony work had easily become one of Steve’s favorite pastimes. Right up on the list with their banter and the easy conversations. It was funny. That it somehow all of Steve’s favorite things of the 21st century seemed to revolve around this one man. 

He wasn’t sure when exactly he fell asleep. It wasn’t until he awoke under the knitted blanket that Tony usually had strewn over the back of the couch that Steve even realized that sleep had taken him. Not just sleep but actual, real  _ restful _ sleep. Relief caused him to sink further into the couch with a sigh only to stiffen in surprise when his pillow shifted. Steve frowned in confusion and shifted to make sense of the matter. The frown quickly faded into a ridiculously fond smile when he realized that his head was actually resting in Tony’s lap, his arm wrapped around the tops of Tony’s thighs the same way he normally would his pillow. The man himself was asleep reclined on the couch, head slumped against the back of the couch. His eyes were closed and mouth opened slightly, one arm sprawled against the arm of the couch and the other draped loosely over Steve’s side. Unwilling to wake him, Steve slowly let himself relax back into his previous position. 

A short time later, Steve felt Tony’s hand twitch against his side and looked up to meet hazy dark eyes as they opened. Steve smiled softly, “Morning.”

“Morning,” Tony echoed sleepily. “Sleep well?”

“I did, actually,” Steve answered, his own surprise obvious in his tone.

“Good,” Tony said with a bob of his head, his thumb stroking against Steve’s ribs apparently without thought. “Think I like this version better.”

“Hmm?”

“Instead of the arguing. Like this better.”

“Me too,” Steve agreed. “Need me to move?”

“No,” Tony replied quiet but insistently. 

“Okay,” Steve said in kind, settling in more comfortably onto his back. Tony made to move his hand from where it had slid onto his stomach with the movement but Steve covered it with his own, stilling the retreat. “Did you get your work done?”

Tony shrugged, running his free hand through his hair and letting it drop into his lap next to Steve’s head. He seemed to get distracted for a moment, his fingers toying with a few strands of Steve’s hair. “Uh yeah. Well not done. But a natural stopping point. J’s got to run a few simulations with the numbers. Can’t really do a whole lot until those are done.”

He seemed to grow slightly more confident when Steve’s eyes fell closed and he tilted his head slightly into the light touch as his fingers began combing idly through his hair, brushing occasionally over his scalp. Idly, Steve wondered how that one argument managed to shift everything so much and not at all at the same time. He wasn’t complaining. He’d be a fool to complain. Two touch starved men gaining some comfort over the simplest of affectionate gestures? And that it was  _ Tony _ touching him so casually? No, he wasn’t going to complain about the shift. Not at all. Instead, he just relaxed into the touch and listened to Tony carry on about the simulations, calculations, and all the other bits and pieces that tended to go over Steve’s head. He asked questions when he could but otherwise just...soaked it up. 

It might have been the best morning he experienced since the ice.


End file.
